Fodder
by Purtail
Summary: (Re-uploaded) "Don't die on me. Please. Come on, don't. Hey. Wake up! Calling Giovanni. This is Rocket 4-CC at Mt. Moon. 10-CF's down. Please, help. Giovanni? ...Giovanni?"


**Fodder**

**Summary: **"Don't die on me. Please. Come on, don't. Hey. Wake up! Calling Giovanni. This is Rocket 4-CC at Mt. Moon. 10-CF's down. Please, help. Giovanni? ...Giovanni?"

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **I've always had a soft spot for Rocket grunts...and I've been thinking of doing this for a while. Oh, and the names are kind of my way of avoiding real names, and how I think they're set up. Letters and numbers. Makes things more easy for the boss.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pokemon.

**Fodder**

I draw in a sharp breath, clutching a Poke Ball tightly in between two gloved fingers. That kid...he just...waltzed in here, and defeated me. All my Pokemon are crushed to a pulp before me.

My Rattata was given to me by Giovanni, the boss, himself. The Pokemon was quite feisty, I had to admit, and we didn't always agree. But, when battles took place, our conflicts were omitted and he presented me with undying loyalty.

Last, and certainly not least, fell my Zubat. It was, for lack of better words, my best friend. When I first joined Team Rocket, I was allowed to choose a Zubat out of a selection. It stuck out right away; its teeth seemed sharper, its wings seemed faster, everything about it overall seemed stronger. I always aimed to surpass my peers, so the connection between us was inevitable.

From the day I received its Poke Ball, I promised we'd soar through the ranks of Team Rocket.

I didn't mean it as a lie.

But it did eventually become one.

That particular day, when I was chosen to assist in the Mt. Moon mission, my fate became set in stone. To think that I, Rocket 4-E, could accomplish _anything _out of my job description...! What a laugh.

Yet, I aspired. I _dreamed_, even.

And I'm sure the other three did as well.

10-CF, 7-CE, and 15-CP were requested to perform the mission with me. But, what was this 'mission'? Simply to stand guard while the executives excavated some rare fossils. Oh, and how could I forget? Our main purpose was to battle any enemy trainers that showed up.

After a few nights in the cold cave, I became closer to the other Rockets. 7-CE was engaged, but his fiancee lived in another region, called Johto; 15-CP revealed his dreams of being a Gym Leader. 10-CF kept quiet through the whole thing, but did mention a few things about his Ekans's ability.

And what did I add to this sharing of information? Pfft. What _was _there to add? I grew up angry with the world, but not with Pokemon. I was willing to help Team Rocket because I felt they could change society. But I didn't exactly approve of their mistreatment of Pokemon. Sure, I could rough around a few Caterpie, but I made it clear on my orientation day that I would _never _end a Pokemon's life.

The morning after our fourth 'therapy' session, the shrill cry of a Pokemon echoed through the air. But this was no yelp of pain; the Pokemon seemed excited and strong. I clutched my Zubat's Poke Ball, attached to my belt, just in case.

Sure enough, the Pokemon belonged to a trainer. And not just one of the lasses or hikers floating around aimlessly in the cave; no, this was just a brat. Like a youngster, only more annoying.

The confident gleam in his eyes nearly startled me; I hadn't seen that kind of determination since I joined the organization. The kid tried to saunter past me, but I wasn't going to let him get in our way.

I stepped in front of him, snarling, "Team Rocket will find the fossils, revive them, and sell them for cash!"

Okay, so maybe revealing our mission wasn't the _brightest _idea.

But, I thrust a Poke Ball forward. In a blindingly bright light, my Rattata appeared, its rear shaking in excitement.

He sent out his Charmeleon, freshly evolved from the looks of it, and ordered it to attack. Rage was his first move, and it did a good amount of damage on Rattata. But, it managed to counter with a flurry of Quick Attacks. And, by some stroke of luck, the Charmeleon was recalled.

I'm not sure if the kid was teasing or pitying me, but he decided next to send out a Butterfree. At the time, I commented that the Bug Pokemon looked weak, but I would soon regret my words. The butterfly sent out multiple psychic waves, all criss-crossed together into a powerful Confusion.

Rattata took the full force of the attack, and became confused instantly. It slammed its tiny skull into the cave walls multiple times, no matter how many times I cried out to it. Eventually, blood bubbled up from a gash on its head. Its legs collapsed from under it, and the Butterfree let out a triumphant screech.

I rushed over to my Pokemon, not sure what to do. Its eyes were tightly closed, and its breathing was weak. Horrified, I returned it to its ball. Hopefully, it would be alright until I was able to get to a Pokemon Center. Of course, it _was _debatable whether or not they'd accept the injured Pokemon of a _Rocket_. Hmm.

Regardless, I knew I only had one Pokemon left – my Zubat. Maybe this time around, with some luck, I would be able to confuse the enemy. I threw the red and white ball into the air; after another bright flash, the bat creature appeared. It stretched its small wings and let out a low growl-like noise.

"Supersonic!" I called out, watching as Zubat shot out invisible waves. Butterfree dodged quickly and landed a hard tackle. Zubat cringed, but dove forward and bit down on the bug. The fangs only nipped the wings, however, and Butterfree sent out its own Confusion waves in retaliation.

Zubat took the attack head-on, falling slowly to the ground. I'm no math expert, but I figured my Pokemon's HP was getting low.

The twerp was smirking, as if he already tasted victory. I clenched my teeth and ordered to Zubat, "Come on, get up! Use another Supersonic!"

Zubat forced itself to stay in the air, and landed its waves effectively. Butterfree became confused, and began to hit itself against the ground. Eventually, it stopped floundering about, and fell limp. It disappeared back into its Poke Ball as the kid recalled it.

My lips curled into a malicious grin. _You are avenged, Rattata. _

But the trainer didn't seem fazed; he didn't even look remotely _worried_. He grabbed another Poke Ball and thrust it into the air.

Within seconds, a familiar yellow mouse appeared, its red cheeks sparking.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Zubat. It was fluttering helplessly and panting, trying to keep itself conscious. It became obvious, then, that we were done for.

With an unexpected flash, Pikachu charged forward. Electricity spread through its fur and bounced off random points in the cave. Zubat began to panic, trying to fly high enough to dodge.

But, of course, it was too late. The rat sent out an explosion of yellow energy, crackling through the air like a bullet.

I stood in shock (no morbid pun intended).

Zubat had been fried on the spot. Its lifeless body hit the earth with a thud. Terrified, I thrust out the only money I had to the kid, and watched him walk away casually. Like it didn't bother him that he mercilessly 'defeated' my Pokemon.

And _we're _the bad guys. Yeah.

I thought as I watched him walk away, surely off to destroy another Rocket's Pokemon team.

...which brings us to the current time.

I stand here, my Zubat turned to ash, and my Rattata suffering from a concussion. There goes my entire party, in just one quick battle.

I know I should be focusing on my own survival here, but I can't help it as my legs tremble and I crumple to the ground. I crawl forward to Zubat, picking up its tiny form in my gloved hands. Honestly, it doesn't look much like a Zubat anymore. What used to be my first Pokemon is now a charred, smoking, and unrecognizable body. It makes me sick – quite literally, too. I feel bile rise in my throat, luckily swallowing before anything escaped.

To be fair, that Pikachu - those damn things are so rare in Viridian Forest, it's a wonder how that brat caught one - had to be at _least _level 16. I mean, anything under that level wouldn't have been able to move that quickly. Zubat, a level 11, would've been expected to lose.

_And yet...I still made it battle. _The thought never occurred to me until now. It wasn't really the kid's fault. Well, I mean, it was _partially _his fault; after all, he had decided to kill Zubat. But, I chose to challenge him, I sent out an under-leveled Pokemon, and I didn't try to save it.

I know I shouldn't cry, being a Rocket, but I can't help it. I collapse forward, on my hands and knees, and sob like a baby. Rocket Grunts aren't supposed to show any emotions (except pride, of course). And yet, here I am, bawling my eyes out. Heh, I'll be fired on the spot if I survive this.

"_If"...?_

Another puzzling thought. What if I don't make it? I'm stranded out here, in a cave, with no Pokemon to help escape.

I find myself wandering. I've been to Mt. Moon before, many times in fact, but cannot recall the way out. Was the correct path blocked from my mind? Is a possible burial for Zubat more important? Who knows...

"H...help..."

A weak plea echoes the cave walls, and awakens me from my thoughts. I lean against one of the rock formations. The voice is louder. Someone seems to be on the other side of this wall!

"Hello?" I call out, cautious. It could be another trainer, luring me into a trap. Or not. Who knows? Rockets are paranoid creatures.

The voice sighs with relief. "Help me...please!"

I blink. "Who are you...?" I ask softly.

"10-CF! Requesting help! Please!" The voice seemed more desperate.

_Oh no._

One of my 'partners' is trapped. Behind this wall.

_But wait..._

I glance up. Fortunately, the formation doesn't reach the ceiling; there _is _a path to the other side. It extends upward – almost like stairs – but I'd have to climb it. With a deep sigh, I grasp the cold stone, and make my way up. My knees and palms are scratched, and the clothing starts to tear, revealing bloodied skin. Yet, I keep climbing.

Why? I have no idea. 10-CF is still crying for help, more desperate than before. Maybe my motivation is to prevent more death today. Maybe this is a heroic act of sorts. I'm not sure, but keep climbing all the same.

Once I reach the top of the wall, I can see the bottom. 10-CF is hunched against a wall, a dark liquid (blood?) soaking his black uniform. His eyes widen with hope at the sight of me.

But, I fail to see that there is no elevated slope on this side, and I fall forward. Sharp rocks jutting out from the sides of the wall pierce my body, and I fall to the ground heavily.

Despite the pain, I leap to my feet and struggle over to 10-CF.

"What's wrong?" I ask, beginning to examine him.

Upon closer look, his eyes are glazed with pain. Three small gashes – shaped like claws, almost – are set across his chest. Blood is seeping through the 'R' on his shirt, and the color is fading from his face.

"Hey! Hold on," I order, grabbing the radio out of my pocket. In all the commotion, I had nearly forgotten about it. Giovanni instructed us to use it only when necessary, and this was surely an emergency. I set the device to his frequency and sent the call.

10-CF closes his eyes and mumbles, "He killed them, you know." A soft chuckle escapes his pale lips. "My Zubat and precious Ekans...both dead."

I nod. "Mine are gone, as well."

The radio in my hand crackles with static. Hoping it was someone responding, I speak into the device, "Giovanni? Giovanni, sir? This is Rocket 4-E at Mt. Moon. 10-CF's down. Please, help. Please."

No response.

Still, I have to try again. "Help. Giovanni, sir! Please help!"

He laughs again. "I guess we'll be joining them soon."

"Who?" I wonder aloud, even though I know the answer.

His eyes open slightly, into slits, and he glances at me. "Our Pokemon."

The reality of his sentence makes my heart lurch.

Shaking my head, I take off my shirt (the only thing I have on me) and wrap it around 10-CF's body. His skin feels like ice, and the decreasing temperature in the cave doesn't help. He barely acknowledges the cover and glances at me again.

"The kid's Charmeleon got me," he explains, pointing weakly to the slashes. His gloves are torn around the fingers, and blood seeps through. "Wasn't really his fault, though. Its slash missed my Ekans."

I nod, taking his words in. The trainer hadn't shown any mercy to me, either. Nor my Pokemon, for that matter.

Without warning, a stinging sensation shoots through me. I check my chest, covered only with an undershirt, and find countless bruises and cuts. How could this have happened...?

Then I remember. Falling from the top of the cave...it must've hurt me more than I realized. I was too busy with 10-CF to pay attention to my own injuries. Wincing, I clutch my side, finding fresh blood on my glove. Tears begin to well in my eyes (unconsciously, of course) as I realize that the situation has escalated to dangerous levels. With both of us hurt, how could we make it out of here?

And yet, despite logic, despite the pain, a tiny bit of me still believes we can. I suppose some optimism does the heart good (or so I've been told).

"Hold on," I repeat to the other Rocket. "Help will come. I'll keep radioing. Just, don't die on me. Keep your eyes open. Please." It's almost to the point that I'm _begging _him.

He nods, albeit weakly, as I try the radio again.

"Giovanni? Please, answer, Giovanni! We need a rescue party sent to Mt. Moon. One grunt is down. I'm..." I bite my tongue, cutting off the words. If I mentioned that we are both injured, he may consider the mission 'failed' and ignore our transmission. "I repeat, one grunt is down. He needs medical attention immediately."

After a few moments of static, the radio goes silent.

"No," I whisper, desperately dialing another frequency. "Anyone! Anyone at all, please, listen! There's a wounded Rocket in Mt. Moon! He needs medical attention. Help! Please!" The pain of my wounds begins to heighten, and my vision sways.

Coughing, I hiss into the device, "TWO Rockets are down. We need help. Please."

All at once, I collapse onto the cold ground, my hand still on the radio. "Help..." I plead. "Giovanni? Giovanni...?" My voice bounces off the cave walls and then disappears.

I glance over one last time at 10-CF. His eyes are completely closed, and his breath comes in short, light bursts.

_I'm sorry, Zubat...Rattata...I promised you power, and granted you death. What a joke. To think that a simple Rocket Grunt, who's referred to not by a name, but by a number, could surpass any title beyond 'fodder'...!_

But I know Giovanni will come. He'll save us. I know it. Any minute now, the rescue party will come for us.

"Giovanni...?" I let out a final whisper, but I realize too late that my finger's slipped off the radio.


End file.
